


Master of the Trade

by Sionna_Raven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sionna_Raven/pseuds/Sionna_Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-war AU: There are two top addresses for certain pleasures in the wizarding world. Severus Snape is intrigued when he gets a business offer from his 'rival'. It isn't much of a risk to meet, even when both don't know the other's name. It isn't much of a risk to take care of a client, when the other master is unavailable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master of the Trade

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: prostitution; dubcon; Bottom!Sirius; D/s; spanking; humiliation; nipple and ball torture
> 
> I've tried to deal with my writing squicks: complete AU, dubcon and hate!sex. This is the result.

Lucius has picked up his clothes and disappeared behind the curtain which covers the basic facilities. I insist that my clients take a shower before and afterwards. This may not be the top address for the service I offer, but it's not a Nocturne Alley brothel. Though no comparison to the other establishment which is simply called The House, it is well equipped, clean and mine.

When Lucius returns, Lucy, the cock-sucking slut is gone. He's every inch the arrogant Pureblood again, he always is outside my humble rooms. Always? No, I don't think so. No matter how much he declares that I'm his only true master, I'm sure he is an equally frequent and valued client at The House. I can't deny I'm curious about my.... colleague? Rival?

He is as careful about revealing his identity as I am, Fidelius Charm on his clients I suppose. Lucius sits down in the second armchair. We have the usual cup of tea. He has hinted at his arrival that he may have an interesting business offer. I've been thinking of expansion for a while now. Many clients ask for longer stays or like Lucius dare to mention the options The House can offer, different theme rooms, a garden, Roman baths and a few well-trained servants.

I patiently wait until he has stirred his tea, three times clockwise, two times counter-clockwise.

“Severus, you mentioned that you're interested in expanding your activities. Have you ever considered investing in an already existing business?”

That sounds interesting indeed, a bit above my possibilities perhaps. “Do you mean The House is for sale? The owner retiring?”

“Oh no, not retiring at all. He is in the same position as you are, has to turn down clients, because he can't manage the requests any more.”

“I'm not interested in employment. I'm my own master and don't need someone ordering me around.”

“Sure Severus, I know that and the master of The House understands. He's not offering you a job; he is looking for a business partner. Equal share for the only one who meets his standards. He has been gathering information about you for a while and what I and a few other guests of his house could tell him has convinced him that you might be acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” I can't help the irony. “What makes him think that he is acceptable to me?”

“Why don't you find out yourself?” Lucius passes me a card, very plain, only a hand-written address. I don't even try to cast a revealing charm. It wouldn't work. “Name a day and a time and you will be expected.”

“No name?”

Lucius shrugs. “He doesn't know yours either. You have both seen to it that no one can speak your names. He trusts me to be his agent in this matter.” Lucius seems to enjoy the situation very much. My rational mind tells me to be wary, but I am curious.

“All right, next week, Wednesday at six.”

“Very well, you won't regret it.”

***

The House is everything I expected it to be from the description of my clients. I can sense the Muggle repelling magic telling me that there's nothing of interest behind the high brick wall and the iron gate. I place the card into the hand of a stone gargoyle and the gate opens for me.

The gravelled path leading to the house in a wide curve has just the right length to raise anticipation in a visitor without making him feel tired for walking. At first I expect Greek statues behind the rhododendron bushes which in their nakedness and deviant postures give away the purpose of this estate to the knowing eye, but no, there's nothing of the kind only a well-kept pleasant front garden. Lucius hasn't had a hand in the planning, that's for sure.

The house itself adds to the positive impression. It looks more like an old grand hotel than an establishment for exotic pleasures. The receptionist witch greets me with refined kindness . She almost looks like any receptionist would look, white blouse, dark skirt. Perhaps her heels are a tiny bit too high, perhaps the fabric of her blouse is a tiny bit too thin. She apologizes that the master will be late. I frown; a future business partner who can't keep fixed appointments is not anything I appreciate. The witch tries to excuse his behaviour.

“He's has been called to settle an unexpected problem.... of a delicate nature. He regrets it very much, but his personal intervention is absolutely necessary.”

She leads me through long corridors to a remote part of the building. No sound can be heard as we pass door after door. The walls are decorated with paintings, landscapes, enchanted forests, flowers, no human portraits. The flowers and trees are magic. They move in a soft breeze, but not one soul which may blab can be seen.

Through a dark wooden door we get into a study. The decoration has changed completely, but still not in an unpleasant way. The corridors are filled with light, simple non-committal elegance. This is darker and it looks like it is lived in. Three walls are covered with bookshelves. French windows on the fourth give a lovely view on the back garden. A pile of magazines on different subjects lie on a small table beside an old leather armchair. A huge oak desk stands opposite the windows. It's a bit of a mess, covered with quills and pencils, scrolls of parchment, miniature models of Muggle motorbikes used as paper weights. The witch hands me a file.

“My master thinks you might be interested in a few details about our house and the business.”

She leaves. I look at the papers, business figures, profit, expenses, a plan of the estate, rooms labelled with names that inspire imagination. It's huge, it's more than I could have imagined. The room I'm in is labelled private like several others in this wing of the house. On the other side is an unlabelled area with the same layout. A row of empty rooms are close by, enough space for me to realize my fantasies. There aren't any servant quarters, he's the only one who lives here.

Why would he offer me a partnership? He doesn't need cash, he doesn't need room. What am I expected to bring into this merger?

There's the draft of the contract. I cast revealing charms on the text. No hidden paragraphs. I get lost in thought.

A knock at the door wakes me. A servant enters, a young man, probably in his mid-twenties but looking younger, dressed in exotic uniform.

“Is there anything you need, Sir?”

What the hell does that unknown master think of, offering me one of his whores? I glare at the young man.

“Coffee, tea, wine? Some light refreshments? …. The master is inconsolable that he keeps you waiting...”

There are whispers in the corridor. People are running around nervously. A girl servant in a similar uniform rushes in, whispers in his ear, hands him a record card, curtseys and runs off again.

The boy looks like a house elf who has made an unforgivable mistake. He opens his lips to speak and closes them again.

“What's the matter? Speak or I'll leave.”

He doesn't dare to look at me. His face is scarlet red and he stutters.

“It's.... I don't know how to.... ask you. It's an imposition, but.... there's a client, a very important client... I've been told to cancel the appointment, but I.... I forgot. We don't know what to do. We can't send him away. One of the senior staff offered to … the client will only accept the master.”

I'm not sure whether he is more scared of his master or the client, but it's easy to guess what he's trying to ask. Have I wondered why he wants a partner? This is obviously too much for one man to handle. His well-trained staff are running around like headless chickens when his back is turned.

It is an imposition! And it's amusing... The servant turns the card nervously in his fingers. I stretch out my hand.

“Give it to me.”

No name, only a letter 'P'. Secrecy above all. A list of likes and dislikes. I take a slow deep breath. I've expected a chubby, bald, high Ministry official, a bit whiny perhaps and very keen to hide his desires, but the description doesn't look like that. It looks interesting, a challenge.

“P

Likes: dirty talk, but not for the sake of vulgarity; bondage (soft to heavy); spanking (soft to heavy); nipple torture; cock and ball torture; sucks cock (with great skill) and swallows come ; pegging; penetration

Dislikes: mindless cruelty; phony rituals; anything common, vulgar or boringly uncreative

General remarks: proud; good taker; physically strong; hates show effects and pretence.

Treat with caution! Will only surrender to genuine dominance! Reacts with true devotion to strict and masterful treatment.”

Interesting indeed, especially since the card is in the same handwriting as the other papers I've seen. This is not the wishful fantasy of a sub, it is a realistic description from his master. At least I hope it is.

“I'll take over... but first bring me a cup of coffee, black without.”

“Yes sir, as you wish, sir....in a minute.”

It doesn't take a minute. They are trained to follow orders. I still need to know a few things. The boy can't tell me anything about the client which is not on the card.

“The master takes care of such clients himself... usually.”

“And you think you can leave such an important client in the hands of a stranger?” I can't help being sarcastic.

The boy looks nervous again. “Veronica said you are... You can do it, can't you?”

I smile ironically. “I can. Who is Veronica?”

“The receptionist. You've met her on your arrival. May I...? Can we send the client to the playroom? Do you have any special orders?”

“Tell the client to await me in ten minutes. I expect you know how to get him ready?”

“Yes of course. Ten minutes....” The boy turns to leave.

“Wait! Where exactly is the playroom?”

The boy blushes. “The entry is right behind that bookcase. It's the master's private room.”

This must be a very special client indeed. I'm sure I've seen at least two rooms in the business area which by their labels should be sufficiently equipped for this kind of play.

Ten minutes – I think I make it 12 or 15. It's always good to keep them waiting, I enjoy the excellent coffee in the meantime.

* * *

The bookcase moves aside at my touch. I can sense magic in the room. It hasn't got any visible windows. The lighting is subtle, enough for me to see, but dark enough to create atmosphere. I haven't really expected a gloomy dungeon or myriads of flickering red and black candles. It's like the study, simple, elegant and with a personal touch, like the comfortable armchair on a small platform in the corner, a companion piece to the ones in the study. The right place to receive gratitude and gestures of devotion. I think of the countless times Lucius has tried to persuade me that a throne-like seat of carved ebony with iron candle stands on both sides is a must-have. I can see a large four-poster in another corner, a pillory and beside it on the wall a good choice of toys and tools.

In the middle of the room on his knees head held respectfully down is the client. He's about my age, naked but for a broad leather collar with a leash attached and in good shape. I can rarely choose my clients for their looks, but I can't deny that I appreciate a slim, slightly muscled body and full hair. I don't really like the tattoos. Tattoo! I know that tattoos. I have seen that long, soft, black hair before.

“What a pleasant surprise to meet you here,.... Black!”

Black raises his head. His hair has fallen into his face. His grey eyes are wide open in shock.

I have my wand out expecting an attack any second. Even without his wand he would try.

But he doesn't! He stays where he is, on his knees, unmoving. His whole body has gone rigid. His eyes glitter with pure hatred. He wants to jump at me....

I stay wary. With my wand raised I move closer. I can't see what keeps him down.

“Now Black, what's the matter? Frozen in fear? It's a bit different without your friends' backup, isn't it? So what are you going to do? Attack or run for it?”

His fingers clench, the knuckles turn white. His face is distorted in fury.

“Too scared to talk to me? Answer!”

Yes, I thought so, something forces him to obey. His lips tremble while he tries to fight the spell.

“I... can't...,” he croaks. “the magic of this room. Can't attack the master, can't leave until he releases me.” He looks down in shame. He's just admitted that he is completely at my mercy.

This is like Christmas in July, better than Christmas. It makes up for all the disappointing Christmases before and all to come. Black on his knees, helpless and I can make him pay for it.... Wait a minute, he has already paid for it! I chuckle and Black shivers. I've never seen something so beautiful as the look of despair he tries to hide behind his fury.

“Something else I need to know about this room?”

He is still fighting the spell. He will fight to the end. When I said he's scared it was only a taunt. He's not. That man survived Azkaban and what else. There's not much left to truly scare him. He's strong and he can take a lot. He always could take a lot. I learned the hard way not to turn my back on him when he seemed down from a curse. I know he's calculating his options. That's what I would do. That's what I had done. He's probably going through the worst case scenarios and tries to decide, if he could bear it.

“I must answer your questions truthfully. The truth is such a pathetic slime ball, Dark Wizard-wannabe as you are can't scare me, Snivellus!”

“Oh, you're bargaining for a quick death, aren't you?”

“Bad luck for you, Snape! No lethal curses or Dark Arts in this house!”

He flinches as I brush away his hair and take hold of the leash. I pull a bit.

“Let's have a closer look at the tools which are at my disposal.”

I lead him to the battery of whips, canes and floggers. He trembles every time I pull and lets out a suppressed cough when I wrap the leash tighter around my hand. I look down and try to slide a finger between his throat and the collar. It's much too tight and I can feel sharp thorns on the inside. He must have been in constant pain and nearly suffocating since I've taken up the leash. Crude devices like that insult my professional pride. I glance over the wall and see a soft leather collar. It is the right size. I remove the nasty spiked one and Black takes a deep breath. There are red lines from the choking and where the spikes scratched his skin tiny drops of drying blood. Stupid Gryffindor dare-devil! This is disgusting and doesn't match the description on the card “dislikes mindless cruelty”.

While I'm putting on the other one, he gives me an odd look, disbelief and unwilling gratitude.

I understand the collar wasn't his choice.

“Don't get any ideas! I will make you suffer. Every time I hurt you you will know it's me and not some stupid collar. You will feel each single blow and you won't get the chance to get used to the feeling.”

Black's eyes are cast down again hidden behind his locks. I grab him and push him over to the pillory. I lift the upper beam and force his neck and hands in between. I don't look into this mad grey eyes again. I want to make him shiver in fear not anticipation. I've got to forget that the card reads like the description of my perfect sub. This is Black! I hate him. He tried to feed me to his werewolf friend!

I want him to feel the humiliation, the helplessness I felt. I want him to remember it whenever we meet, wipe that arrogant smile off his face forever.

I kick his feet apart and close the second block around them.

“Time for a little warm-up, don't you think?” I give him a slap with the end of the leash.

“Is this all you can do?” Black doesn't know when to shut up.

I let my eyes wander again over the tools and find exactly what I am looking for. I swish the cane through the air. Black doesn't flinch. I haven't expected him to.

“I think a dozen is a good measure. Count each blow when it hits your bottom. Every mistake earns you three more. You know the drill, don't you?.....Don't you?”

“Y..e..sss...............”

I like the subtle magic of the room. It's not turning him into a spineless slave. It wasn't fun, if it did. He hates me and he hates what I will do to him. Can I make him call me master?

Swish – pang ….. “One!”

Swish – pang ….. “Two!”

Swish – pang ….. “Three!”

Swish – plop … “Fou..” , he notices his mistake too late. I only hit the wood of the pillory.

“That makes 15 and some people say Gryffindors can't count to three.”

He grinds his teeth.

Swish – pang …. “Five!” …....”10!”

Swish – hold …........ He has been wary. Swish – hold – the cane gently touches his skin.

Black holds his breath and …. “Bastard!” He realizes he can't win.

“Three more for the mistake and another three for impudence makes 21 overall. My my, you can't get enough.”

The following two are counted accurately.

“For the bonus pack I've decided to change tools.”

Black has tried to hide his pain as well as possible. I usually prefer my subs more responsive. I've got to watch him closely to see the muscles of his face twitch and his lids flutter.

I show him the wooden paddle I'm going to use now. I don't need to explain the effect of the holes in the wood. He knows. I let my other hand trail along his back and feel the slight shiver. He concentrates on his breathing, trying to relax. We'll see how far this will get him.

It gets him further than I've expected. He trembles and fidgets, but he doesn't scream or whine. He has to bite his lips to stop himself from screaming. His lips are red and sore from the effort. Lips full and luscious which produced biting insults with a smile. Clever insults, not the witless name calling Potter did, words that cut and stuck like the name he gave me on the train. In the end even Lily used it.

“Now, what does a good boy say after his well deserved punishment?”

“Fuck!”

“Later perhaps and you'll be begging for it. You'll be begging for mercy before I'm done and you will thank me properly in the end.”

“Dream on, Snivelly! I'd.... rather … die.”

“Of course, Black, but you won't. You will live to remember.”

For the first time there's real fear in his eyes. He likes those things and I am a called an expert in my profession. I've wanted to hurt him, but what if I make him enjoy it? Make him truly beg, not for mercy, make him beg for more? The humiliation would be much greater.

I brush over his lips with my thumb, parting them to enter. I can see that makes him feel worse than the beating. Unable to hurt me he can't do anything when I thrust my cock into his mouth. Hard and deep thrusts which make him choke. He's trying to adjust his head to overcome the urge to gag. Not another joke about Little Snivelly, Black?

I pause for a moment to let him catch breath. He withdraws his head, but not completely. His lips closed around the shaft start moving. His tongue circles the tip. I'm not stupid enough to believe that he has just given in. On the contrary the banter is over. He has started fighting me in earnest, using the limited means he has. _“Sucks cock with great skill”_ There's no denying that. I laugh out loud that the arrogant prat believes he can make me beg. To think he can beat me in my own game where I set the rules. He can't win and his defeat will be complete. He jerks his head to look up not letting go of my cock for a second. I smirk in acceptance of his challenge.

He is good, not good enough, but damn good. I silently enjoy his efforts to make me come. He's not in a hurry, not trying to make me come to be done with. Black experiments with different amounts of pressure, plays with his talented tongue to find out what has the greatest effect and... he slows down just when I'm getting close. I need all my self-control not to moan when he uses his teeth.

I don't want to interrupt him, but I do. I grab his hair and pull to correct his pace. I move away to force him to strain his neck. I'm the one in charge! Does he see through it? It's hard to tell. He seems to be so immersed in his task that he doesn't pay attention to anything else. I can feel the tension rise inside me again. I do my utmost not to let him notice and it takes him by surprise when I pull out. He just manages to close his eyes before the first splash hits him. With my come smeared over his face, dripping from his nose and his hair, his triumph is rather soiled. Do I see him licking his lips?

I brush a few sticky strands off his face.

“You should really wash your hair.”

I wipe it off his face and press my fingers on his mouth.

“Lick!... Yes, clean up the mess.”

He obediently licks every single drop from my fingers. Sucks on them while I push them in and out.

“Who would have thought that big mouth of yours is good for more than mindless blabbing and shouting insults. Should you ever consider honest work, you could earn a pretty penny with your talent in the backyards of Knockturn Alley.”

I open the blocks. Black resists the urge to rub his wrists and ankles.

“You're not done with the cleaning,” I say and point to the floor. Black hesitates for a second.

Losing your nerve so quickly? You'd rather risk more punishment than doing that to keep up your act?

To my surprise, he overcomes his pride and lowers his head to lick up the spatters. A tiny drop has hit the tip of my shoe and.... he laps it up. I've underestimated his determination. With a gesture that would look natural in any other moment he has pushed back his hair to let me have a good look at the slow movements of his tongue. The devotional act looks almost convincing, convincing enough to make me nervous. Watching him makes shivers run through my spine, makes me wish it wasn't an act. Whoever has trained him has done a good job.

I won't fall for it. A look from those puppy eyes, a smile on those lips and everything is forgiven. Nothing is forgiven, nothing is forgotten. You're wasting your talents, Black!

He's turned his head sidewards to watch my reaction. He can't seriously believe that it has worked on me. I grab his leash and wind it around my hand.

“Follow me at heel, Mutt. I appreciate that you have enough sense to see that your previous obstinate behaviour doesn't get you anywhere. Acceptance of your well-deserved punishment will make things much easier for you. You do accept that you deserve to be punished, don't you?”

I have spoken in a very light-hearted tone, while I lead him across the room. The spell allows him to ignore a rhetorical question. The truthful answer can only end in another outburst of swearing.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Sit!”

His eyes are still lowered submissively – no, stubbornly. I lift his chin with my fingers to look into his eyes. He shall know that I do not believe his lies. Lies? He cannot lie to me. But why then does he say he deserves the punishment? I don't want to think he might have changed. I have my chance to get back at him at last. I won't let him spoil it by showing remorse. I've got to get back in control – of myself. Get my priorities straight. This is not about pleasure. It is not even about my own pleasure. It is about revenge.

I need to make him feel the humiliation. Control not sex.

Am I really thinking of having sex with Black? Why does that bastard still look so hot? In my eyes his looks have even improved since our school days. The meaningless perfection of the well-fed, pampered Pureblood has been replaced by more defined, harder features. He is still a bit thinner than he was in school. His muscles are shaped for endurance rather than Quidditch. A few white hairs glitter like silver threads among the black strands. The way he watches me patiently with half-closed eyes gets right under my skin. The greater change is not on the outside. He has learned discipline and self-control and he stopped acting like a complete moron. He has never really been stupid. Rash perhaps and hot-headed, but most of his foolishness was as much an act as his submissiveness is now.

Potter had never been more than a show-off without Black. He had never scored so many goals at Quidditch, if Black had not been such a skilled seeker. He'd never won so many fights, if Black had not watched his back and kept me down. He'd never won Lily's heart, if Black had not given him the opportunity to present himself as a hero by saving my life. I have not forgotten why I hate Black.

“Which punishment do you think befits your crime?”

It feels good to see the nervousness rise in his now open eyes.

“I...I don't know. …. You're going ...to do your worst.”

“Yes and I know a little bit of these things. But what would be worst for you? ”

“Isn't it your job to figure that out?”

“Oh I am and I think I have a pretty good idea.” I've noticed that he is pressing his thighs together.

“I've never thought you're the kind of dog who hides its tail between its legs. Spread!”

Black's face turns scarlet as I force his knees apart with my foot. His cock jumps to freedom. It's not an impressive size, but definitely interested.

“Is that all you can offer?” I chuckle and give it a nudge with my shoe. It raises its head a bit more. I watch him concentrating to get his unruly member back in line. Thank Salazar, I prefer traditional wizards' clothing, loose fit at the critical areas, because it's definitely hot to see him struggle with his desires.

I lead him to the armchair and make myself comfortable. Black cowers obediently at my feet. I know he's watching me. He's waiting for my next move. I'm not sure, pain or humiliation? He'd probably prefer pain, easier to defy. Humiliation then, but his submissiveness gets at me. I should give him a beating until he breaks down and just leave him like that. I summon a riding crop and watch his body tense and relax again in expectation of the first blow. Not so fast....

“Lean back and spread your knees wider.”

I let the tip of the crop trail over his body. His clenched fists betray the effort it takes him to stay calm. The touch with the riding crop makes his nipples stand up. I imagine him moaning in pleasure at this, if it wasn't me doing it. I place the crop on his body enjoying the look of it. The look of him, his most sensitive parts so completely defenceless, vulnerable, bared as an offering to me. The muscles of his thighs are tensed to keep the position. His hair has fallen back, no chance to hide.

On a table beside the chair stands a cruet of red wine and one glass. I fill the glass and take a sip. Black trembles slightly. The position is uncomfortable. How long can he hold it?

As I place the glass back on the table I notice a wooden box. I open it. Yes, exactly what I need. Tiny nipple clamps and weights and other small objects which make me lick my lips at the thought of using them on Black. It's the light and subtle pain that will bring him down.

He shivers when I attach the clamps to his nipples. I've chosen a pair that is linked by a thin chain. I play with the chain, pull a bit, let the loops touch his stomach, his cock. It reacts immediately. Why do I imagine what it was like, if he was a willing sub, longing for my touch, begging for my attention?

“Touch yourself! You want it, don't you? Your perverted mind needs it. Admit to yourself that you need it so desperately that you don't care it's me!”

Black hesitantly obeys. He grabs his cock and at a gentle slap with the crop starts moving. It's the trick my profession is based on. They react to a very basic set of stimuli and the master himself doesn't matter. It could be anyone with the skill to push their buttons. I usually don't care. I'm paid for fulfilling their fantasies, well paid. Some clients even need the kick to be forced to submit to an unattractive master, to someone they'd despise in the real world. I can afford to refuse them. But I want Black to recognize me, because I can't ignore that it's him who's pushing my buttons. Every single one of them!

Keeping his eyes shut he has reached the point where it really doesn't matter. The pressure on his nipples, the cold metal of the chain he rubs against his prick and the threat of the riding crop casually tapping... every once in a while hitting his inner thighs with a bit more force. He has given in to the feeling. His body has relaxed and I see the tiny ring of a butt plug. Ready for me..., no, ready for anyone who can take advantage. I tap the ring. Black twitches and moans. I imagine him moaning, when I... if I... I could make him. I just need to pull out the plug and press my cock against his hole. He'd be spreading even more, arching up against ….it.

“Enough of that! Get up, slut!” I wrench the clamps off. Black pulls up his knees and presses them together to protect his precious parts from the _encouraging_ thwacks with the crop. He looks confused, shocked, not knowing what he's done wrong.

Nothing, it's the fact that you exist, if you know what I mean.

He still is confused when magic ropes fall from the ceiling, wind around his wrists and pull him up until he barely stands on tiptoes. His cock hangs down rather sadly. That's more like it.

Look at me, Black! You're not getting hard when Severus Snape touches you! I can touch you at will! There's no use pressing your legs together.

I squeeze his balls and remember the nice toys in the box. The card says he enjoys ball torture. Let's see how much he enjoys being tortured by me. I have to stop him from pressing his legs together. A spreading bar between his ankles will work just fine. Usually I would lower the ropes a bit to help him get steady, but why bother with Black? The leather parachute I take from the box can be used both ways, spikes on the outside or on the inside. Black tries to wiggle away, when I close it.

“When the natural equipment is lacking, it needs dressing up.”

“You'd know about that,” Black growls. “How do you make your clients hard usually? Spell or potion?”

“It didn't take spell or potion to get you in the mood a minute ago. My clients are very eager to make a good impression. You seem to misjudge the situation. It's me who decides how much you are allowed to enjoy yourself. At the moment the state of your cock is not so much of interest to me. That may change however. Perhaps you'll be allowed to pay tribute to my skill later,..... if you're begging nicely.”

Black's eyes have turned to slits while I attach the weights to the ball stretcher. To be honest Black's equipment isn't really lacking. It's well-sized and proportioned. I carefully avoid touching this cock. I don't need to. Tensely stretched as his whole body is now, it has also become very sensitive. I take two steps back to get a good look. His cock has mostly recovered.

“Maybe I need a spell to keep you down?” If I need one, it better be non-verbal. My words give it another boost. Is he aware of the absurdity of the situation? We are standing here and hard from merely looking at each other. Both of us, I don't pretend that my own arousal can be overlooked. Can I make him believe that the thought of punishing him arouses me? It does, but not the way it should.

This has to stop! I can't let him do that to me! It's bad enough that I want him. I can have him anyway. He has no means to stop me from doing whatever I want. I wish I could just take what I want and leave him in misery, but that's not what I want. I want him to want me. It makes me furious. Before I'm really aware of what I'm doing I hold another spanking tool in my hand. It's something I rarely use. I've felt it myself too many times. Black also seems familiar with it. It's a strange thought that Orion Black and my father had something in common. This time Black is unable to hide the pain when the belt hits him repeatedly. I feel like I'm regaining control. He deserves it. He does!

I pause to watch Black's face. I wanted to see pain and fear, but all I see is sadness and resignation. He has given up. So quickly?

Yes, it hurts. Criss-crossing red lines cover his back, but overall it's not worse than the holey paddle.

“Too much for you? Can't you take the punishment? Do you want me to stop?”

He looks straight into my eyes and leans against my hand which has raised his chin. As if he seeks comfort in my touch?

“No..... Master,” he whispers. “I have done enough to deserve this.”

He calls me Master? Now?

The look in his eyes has changed again. Questioning, hopeful, pleading?

“Can you forgive me..... afterwards?”

Forgive him? Afterwards? What is he playing at? There is no afterwards involving the two of us..... no matter how much I wish for it. I grab the belt tightly and strike.

The …. damn …. mutt …. is …. trying …. to …. drive …. me …. insane!!!!

I want …. to …. keep him.......... afterwards!

He has screamed at every blow until the final cry, “Severus, please!” brings me back to the reality of what I have done.

He's panting as am I. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and mix with tears. His body is a complete mess. There's blood trickling down his back, smeared on the belt, tiny drops on the sleeve of my shirt. I've lost the control I've so desperately tried to keep.

I untie his feet, remove the ball stretcher, the plug and cast healing charms. I've gone too far. I wanted righteous revenge, but I punished him for what I felt not for what he has done.

I put my arm around him to keep him steady while I lower the ropes. His head falls against my shoulder. His hands claw at my shoulders, seeking support and.... comfort. He is too weak to stand on his own feet. I help him to get on the bed, trying not to hurt him even more. He lies still while I cast another set of healing spells. I summon the glass from the table. I have to slow him down, because he swallows the drink eagerly. It's all I can do.

His master will look after him when he returns.

I stand up and pick my jacket from the floor.

A noise from the bed makes me turn. Black is sobbing.

“Severus ….. don't …. don't leave like this.”

I can't refuse him anymore. When I lift his tear-stained face, his lips are trembling. One anxious question, “Severus..... forgiven?”

“You stupid mutt...” I do the forbidden thing and kiss him. This is personal. It has never been about professional pride. I'm not getting paid for it.

The long postponed meeting will be short anyway. I doubt the master of this house will take kindly to my intention to keep his special client for myself.

“You are mine.” I whisper into his ear while he clings to me. This is the moment when the feeling of power is strongest. Anyone can torture and abuse a tied-up, helpless victim. They only truly belong to you, when they lie in your arms unbound except by themselves, depending on your strength to give them comfort.

“I am, if you really want me.” There's something cute about the anxious tone of his voice.

“Of course I want you. When I think of all those thing I still could do to you.....”

Sirius rubs himself against me. “Are you going to do some more …. tonight? You know what I mean? Finish it?”

“You're in no state for more activities, Sirius.” I reach down to remind him of the rather weak condition he's in, but ….he's not that weak surprisingly.

“That's not what I meant. If you want me to be yours, you should … well, take me, don't you think?”

He crawls into a 'doggy' position and tries to wiggle his arse invitingly. His legs and arms are actually a bit wobbly.

“You merely prove my point. Not steady enough to take any more.” I give him a very gentle push and he falls on the side. Sirius jerks his head in a dog-like manner and grins sheepishly.

“As I see it you'd be the one doing most of the hard work. Maybe... with a bit of support...” He rolls on his back and pushes a pillow under his bottom.

“Severus,.... Master please. I need you inside me. …. You said, if I beg nicely ....”

It's hard to resist such an offer.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“Never mind, I want to feel it. I guess I'm sufficiently stretched and you find what else is needed on the headboard shelf.”

He has started touching himself again with open eyes focusing on me. On a certain part of me. A part which struggles to get free again and give in to the pleading voice that calls my name.

“Severus! Severus, please ..... fuck me!”

I intend to go slowly, take some lube and explore his entrance. Slow is not Sirius' way of doing things. He pushes against my fingers.

“Don't complain when you get more than you've bargained for.”

“I doubt I can ever get enough of that,” he moans as I thrust into him and he wraps his legs around mine.

We've stopped talking. It takes all his effort to hold on to me. I can see that no matter how much I try to be careful, it hurts, but he refuses to let me go before I'm fully spent. He comes at the same time, by sheer force of will rather than any response to stimulation.

Reason catches up with me very soon. We can't stay together for the night, not here. I sit up and get dressed. Sirius watches me with his head resting on his arm. I bow down to give him a gentle goodbye kiss. He smiles and gets up himself. Still a bit shaky he leans against the bedpost.

“Behind the second wall panel on the left is the door to a bathroom. You'll find everything you need. Leave your clothes on the floor. They will be taken care of while you're under the shower. Simply ring the bell when you're ready.”

I begin to wonder how very familiar he is with everything in this house and how confident about how things are done and yet he doesn't seem to be bothered in the slightest to cause the displeasure of his previous master. The thought passes immediately as he takes my hands into his own and kisses them.

“Thank you, Severus.”

He remembered my taunt from the very beginning.

Then he is gone through another hidden door.

* * *

I take advantage of the luxurious bathroom. Fully equipped ensuite bathrooms are one of the things I always wanted to add. I've left my clothes on the floor as Sirius told me and hear the tapping of bare elf feet collecting them and only a moment later returning them washed and ironed.

When I'm done I ring the bell and a second door opens to a small corridor. I walk to its end and open another door.

It's the study again. The table between the armchairs is set with exquisite nibbles. In the frame of the now opened French window stands the mysterious master of this house, tall and full of confidence he could put Lucius to shame. His long black hair is still wet from the shower and adds to the stunning mixture of casual and smart everyone adored at school. He turns around as I enter. In one hand he holds a wine glass, in the other a half-eaten sandwich. He chews and swallows and points at the table with an inviting gesture.

“I'm sorry I have started without you, Severus, but I really needed a bite. Sit down and have some yourself, before we talk business.”

I want to turn on the spot and leave, slamming the door behind me, but that would be admitting defeat.

“You've tricked me, Black!”

Black puts his glass and sandwich on the table.

“Severus, I'm sorry about that. You can't have expected me to blindly trust Lucius' assessment of your professional skills. If anything, I've tricked myself, don't you think? Please Severus, hear me out...”

I glare at him. He raises his hand to push back a wet strand that has fallen into his face. The frilled cuff of his pristine 17th century shirt falls down and reveals the red marks the ropes have left on his wrist. He hasn't bothered to heal them in an attempt to deny what has happened.

“Severus, I was as surprised .... as shocked as you were when you entered the room. At first it was stubborn pride that made me stay. I wasn't ready to admit I was scared of what you might do...and after all the things I've heard about the man I expected to meet, I was still intrigued to find out.... I admit that I carefully arranged for your secret to be revealed, when you would enter the room, while mine remained intact. That was the only trickery.”

“You've lied about the magic that forced you to obey and tell the truth.”

“No, I haven't. Those spells are indeed part of the room. I may be reckless, I'm not suicidal though. They would have failed, if I had revealed myself as who I am. ”

“Who you are?” I mock him.”You are a high class whore!”

He laughs completely unashamed. “Yes, I am and so are you. Top of the list. We wouldn't be talking, if it was otherwise.”

Sirius has come closer, very close. He takes my hand again.

“Severus, please stay. Sit down, have a sandwich and a drink. You must be hungry too. Don't tell me it left you completely unaffected. I will accept, if you're against an office affair. But at least take a look at my offer and let me show you around the place, before you make a decision.”

“Office affair? What are you talking about? We're not having an affair!”

“Then call it the beginning of something I'd like to continue. Maybe I've misunderstood what you've said earlier about all those things you still want to do to me? However right now I'm trying to persuade you to still consider my business offer.”

“You are as arrogant as ever, Black. It doesn't occur to you that I might have lied earlier?”

“You? Lied about that? No! I knew for sure you weren't lying, when you broke the code of conduct.”

“The kiss, my final mistake, wasn't it? Allright, show me your file again. I have a few questions.”

Business is business and Sirius Black can be dead serious about it. I should have known by the well ordered presentation file. I point him to the fact that he's paying a ridiculous amount of money to import exotic potions and essences where cheaper British products are available. He doesn't deny it.

“I simply don't have your expertise and wouldn't take chances with cheap replacements.”

“Or Lucius recommended the dealers who pay him the highest commissions.”

He laughs. “I guess we both have more than one bone to pick with Lucy.”

“Indeed Lucy has been a naughty girl not to give us a warning. Without your little trick this could have ended very nastily.”

“For both of us …. despite the magic ban on lethal curses.”

Next I want to know about the empty rooms on the plan. Sirius says that they are completely at my disposal. He expects me to invest my funds there.

He has done his homework. His estimation of what I can afford is pretty accurate. With the potential of my client list added equal share is quite realistic.

When we go into more and more details he repeats his suggestion to discuss them on site. He seems eager to show me his realm.

I am impressed. Of course, I've heard about the theme rooms, but to see them is different. They offer perfect fantasy worlds from a Victorian lady's boudoir to something right out of the pages of a 70s Muggle men's magazine, a vibrating round water bed included and from dark dungeons to the overwhelming luxury of Arabian Nights, .

More than once I laugh out loud.

“You are mad, Sirius. Don't even think of me wearing a turban to receive a client in here.”

“You don't need to, we have staff to fulfill such wishes. The room is rather popular with clients who like to top.”

“ With you wearing harem pants? You receive clients who top?”

“Not in person, there's not enough gold in the world to make me bottom …. nowadays. I keep my personal preferences private.”

“Hmmmh, you might actually look very pretty in harem pants.”

“For you I might make an exception.”

“Might? You will. Only for me! I'm not willing to share.”

Sirius has taken me by the hand and pulled me into a side corridor.

“That's more to my liking.”

We've entered the baths Lucius has been raving about. Sirius assures me that all plumbing and heating is up to modern Muggle standards. His sense for pragmatic details amidst this world of deviant pleasures is astonishing. Pools and tubs, steam baths, massage, now I get an idea where the horrendous sums for potions are going to. It's simply beautiful.

We haven't met a single soul while exploring and now we have reached the unused part of the house. I ask about his staff.

“They left after they showed you in and don't worry they don't remember the part they played in my little charade. We're closed for tonight. Nobody here, except us and Kreacher.”

“Kreacher?” I wonder.

“He changed his mind about me and after a few years with Harry and his family he decided that his loyalties ultimately lie with the last of the Blacks. He knows how to keep his master's secrets and makes good sandwiches. Any ideas what you want to do in here?”

“Plenty, your wing is missing certain themes which are very much in demand.”

A shadow appears on his face. “I know. I only built rooms I can relate to in some ways. I'm a horrible schoolmaster for example and there are a few kinks which are simply to real for my taste. Feel free to introduce them, but let me keep my distance.”

I do understand. It has been obvious that there are no rooms for any kind of prison or interrogation scenario. He has his limits and he can afford keep them.

“I won't start anything that disturbs you.” I say.

“I'm not judging those preferences, but I don't want a hand in it. I have heard that you are good at it. Built whatever you want.”

“We'll see. What about the rest of the rooms, the ones that mirror your private suite?”

“Move in, if you like or leave them empty. It's up to you.”

“I actually don't like that they are at the other end of the house, too far from yours.”

“They are not. There's a magic corridor linking both apartments.”

“You've thought of everything, haven't you?”

“Maybe I still have dreams and hopes and my own fantasies.” He looks a bit sad and lonely for a second.

“There's one more question. Why? Not why I'm here. I think I understand that. Why are you here? Doing this job?”

He laughs bitterly. “For the same reason you're doing it, I suppose. I'm good at it. I value my independence and I want the money.”

“You have been born rich. You never needed the money. Potter has returned your legacy as soon as you came back.”

“Yes, Harry has returned what was left. Most of it went into rebuilding and compensating victims after the war. The rest was barely enough to buy this rundown estate and start the business. He wanted to repay it from his own vault, but I don't want charity. You've said I should work using my skills. I did. What you've seen is the result of hard work. Follow me, I show you something.”

He leads me through the empty private rooms to the garden. It's too dark to see much of it, but the paths are lighted as we pass. At the very end just beside the high brick wall I see a row of two or three shabby buildings. Between the houses and the wall runs a narrow, dusky alleyway dimly lit by a gas lantern.

The whole area looks abandoned and completely out of place.

Sirius walks ahead until he stands in the cone of the gas light. He leans provocatively against the wall, smiling a false smile. His face half in shadow, he moves his hips to draw my attention.

“Looking for company? Don't look any further. I can keep you company, pleasurable company.”

He knows exactly how to show off his assets. It looks cheap and obscene and at the same time alluring. Just the thing one would seek in a dark alley like this.

“I can make you forget how lonely you are.” He licks his lips suggestively. “Don't be shy. You won't find a better offer around here.”

Another of his fantasy locations, he blends in perfectly and still looks out of place.

I play along and look around like a trick afraid to be seen. Nobody there, so I get closer. I pretend to size him up.

“How much?”

“Two quid and I do you right there.” He jerks his head towards a doorway. “Three, if you want the privacy of my place. The same, if you prefer to do me. You look like you might enjoy a bit more than a blow job.” He fakes the admiring look perfectly. “Six galleons for a shag.”

I place one hand on his bum. It's interesting how he carefully avoids to let me see his eyes. No point with me however. I know the empty, cold look that comes with this place.

“Your place, you strip fully. What about ... a few extras?”

He doesn't answer immediately. Now he's sizing me up, calculating the risk.

“I don't do rough. For a tenner you can tie me up, my rope, no tools.”

His caution amuses me, knowing what he really does for a living, but it also shows that this is less of an act than it looks like. He knows of the dangers and doesn't take chances.

“Fifteen and ….” I slap his arse.

“All right.” He stretches his hand out as if to receive the money and bursts out in laughter. “Long time ago....”

I put my arms around his waist and pull him close. “Never again...”

“No.” He says.

His playfulness returns in an instant. “It's too late to show you the real pleasures of my garden, but you need to see one more thing.” He pulls me along the paths to a place which suits him much more. Hidden behind a few bends and turns is a wooden pavilion. The white paint magically reflects the light of the stars and the moon. The summer air smells of honeysuckle and roses which climb the posts and cover the roof.

“You are a secret romantic.”

“Maybe I've been waiting for a prince.” He twinkles mischievously and lights his wand to show me the hidden metal hooks and chains.

“Are you sure you're up for another round?”

“Try me.”


End file.
